Waiting for the Dawn
by LadyLefaye
Summary: Someone gives Spike a reason to enjoy being shackled to the wall. Set around Season 7's episode The Killer in Me. Repost.


**A/N: **I wrote this story a LONG time ago, and I just now realized that I hadn't reposted it with the rest of my fics. So if it seems vaguely familiar to anyone, that might be why (it had been posted previously under my old author name Faeriechilde). I won't claim that it's my best work, but I hope you enjoy!

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The first time he did it, it was honestly for the sake of the girls. He could be dangerous when he was in his right mind, but when the First Evil had him under its control, he was a truly lethal being, without remorse, or memory for that matter. So he had shackled himself to the basement wall, hoping that the thick chains would be enough to keep him from snacking on any of the lovely pieces of teenage flesh that seemed to derive great pleasure in thronging about him in morbid curiosity.

Then _she_ had to come into the picture, pointing out that not all of the potential Slayers were what one would call intelligent, with their nasty habit of straying far to close to him, inching nearer with wide-eyed innocence, until they were well within the bounds of his chains. And with the good four foot range on his self-imposed tether, if he were to truly fall under the sway of the First again, that would give him ample enough room to snatch up a naive girl or two and rip out their pretty little throats before they knew what had happened. So it was with cunning logic she convinced him to tighten the leash.

Her process of binding him was a gradual one. First she shortened the chains a foot and asked him to lunge at her. He had his teeth at her neck within moments. He could feel the hunger boil in him at that small victory, but reluctantly he released his hold on her. Then she shortened the chains again. It took more effort this time, but his teeth still found their way back to her throat, his nostrils breathing in the intoxicating scent of her blood. In truth, Spike was beginning to enjoy himself, the taste of her almost palpable in his mouth every time his lips grazed her skin. They played this game for over an hour, until he finally found himself flat on his back, his arms pinned above his head, practically immobile. She stood mere inches from him, and still he could not reach her.

It was only when the look of triumph slid over her face that he realized his mistake. Her expression was not sprung from the satisfaction that she had prevented a potential disaster. No, her satisfaction was of an entirely different sort, as evidenced by the seductive smile that played across her face as she slowly straddled his prone form.

Spike was already more than a bit turned, but still he struggled fiercely at first, pulling desperately at the chains, fearing what Buffy might think if she found out. Then the young woman on top of him began to bite and kiss and scratch at his skin, tentative at first, but then with more confidence, and Spike lost his will to fight. He had not been with anyone since Buffy, and he longed for something to take away that ache, even for a moment. The pleasurable sensations that the young vixen was creating seemed more than capable of helping him achieve that goal. So he stopped fighting, submitting himself to her eager advances.

She explored his chest first, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, and then nipping and sucking at every inch of exposed flesh. He could tell that she burned to take the shirt off completely, but the shackles prevented the complete removal of the offending garment. Perhaps to fulfill the desire to take off _some_ piece of clothing, she removed her own shirt instead. Her bra and pants soon followed in a slow strip tease that was powered by the desire in his gaze. Spike's eyes glowed a golden color, and a feral growl issued from the back of his throat as she stood before him naked, like a beautiful goddess.

She crawled over him again and placed the briefest of kisses on his lips, backing away immediately when he tried to arch to meet her. Instead of giving in to him, she continued her torture, trailing her lips down the center of his chest until she reached his navel. Her tongue dipped beneath the waistband of his black jeans, and his hips bucked involuntarily. She peeled his pants off slowly, taking care to not make even the slightest contact with his swollen member. Once she had him stripped, she stood at his feet, staring at him for a long while, memorizing the beautiful sight of his bound form. Then with a cruel smile, she turned as if to leave. Spike groaned, a strangled "please..." coming out his mouth, and she turned to face him again, a look of glee in her eyes.

She had _wanted_ him to beg, he realized in a flash of anger, but then it didn't matter, because she was attacking him with lips and hands, her ministrations no less effective despite her lack of experience. The vision of her head bobbing up and down at his groin had to be one of the most erotic things he had ever seen. In all of his years, he had never totally given up control like this, especially to someone so incredibly weaker than himself, and he found it intensely exhilarating, to the point where he feared he would explode into his goddess' mouth if she did not stop soon.

But he was foolish to think she would give him his release that easily. This was, after all, completely about _her_ pleasure, not his. It gave her pleasure to have him writhe underneath her, to have this immensely powerful creature totally under her sway, but she longed for more than just a power trip. When she had brought Spike as close to the edge as she was able without pushing him over, she stopped her ministrations. Her mouth slid off his cock, and her hands ceased to fondle him. She gave him a moment to reign in his desire, and roar in frustration, before she slid up his body. She made certain he was entirely still before impaling herself on him in one harsh thrust.

Both of them spasmed at the force of their union, Spike in pleasure, but she in pain. A single tear slid down her face and the faint smell of blood invaded Spike's nostrils. She held his gaze for a long time, her body unmoving, and Spike looked back in stunned silence, awed at the gift she had decided to give him and at the brazen manner in which she had chosen to bestow it. Fear showed in her eyes, piercing the veil of feigned confidence she had been wearing, so Spike began to whisper soft encouragements, trying to make her feel special and safe. Emboldened by his words, she started to slowly rock against him, learning how to take her pleasure from him as she also gave pleasure in return.

Through sheer willpower, Spike forced himself to build slowly with her, not allowing his own release until he was certain she would come along with him. It took her a while for her to learn her body's pathways to pleasure, but eventually she was writhing against him, moaning his name. At the moment of her climax, she grabbed his head, and after placing a fierce kiss on his lips, she forced his mouth to her throat. Spike could not help but feed, drinking deeply as his own release was finally permitted.

The euphoria they both felt was better than any drug, and even after their climax, they both shook violently for a time. Once they had stilled slightly, she reached above him and released the chains, allowing his straining arms to finally cradle her. They stayed that way for a short while, then in unspoken agreement, they both got up and reluctantly put their clothes back on. Taking advantage of his freedom, Spike kissed her fiercely, claiming her as she had claimed him. Eventually, he submitted himself to being shackled again. She readjusted the chains to their original length so that he could sleep in comfort, not truly believing that he would harm anyone. She had only used that as a pretense, the idea of him chained and completely vulnerable too tempting for her to resist after all the time she had spent secretly pining for him.

Now at the end of each night she came for him. She had made it her self appointed task to shackle him for the day, claiming the safety of the others of course. As soon as the sun began to peak over the horizon, when all the things that went bump in the night took their rest and the fight was ended for another night, she would creep silently down to the basement. She would always bind him tightly at the start, taking him slow or rough, however _she_ chose, for the first time at least. Then sometimes she would release him, and allow him mouth to roam over her body, searching out her secret spots, the ones that made her quiver with the slightest of touches. Those were the best nights, when he was allowed to touch her, but to be honest, every night he was with her was the best night, and every day he spent without her was the worst day.

Most times she had to leave soon after their lovemaking, taking a quick shower before she left for school, but the weekends were different. They could take an extra hour or two to just lie there in those moments between sleep and awake. They could never fully fall asleep together; it would be too great a risk, but they could rest in each other's arms.

Spike's days were always filled with restless sleep. His nights filled with unending violence. But now he had something to look forward to. He was probably the only vampire in existence who waited eagerly for the coming of the dawn, for his Dawn was bliss, and in her arms he was able to steal a few moments of happiness, which was more than enough for him.


End file.
